Cave Creek Crawl

Posted on October 22, 2011 by vairarenbeth

After much ado, we are finally moved into our Cave Creek digs.  Boxes are still piled in corners of their respective rooms.  The kitchen has all the dishes and cookery in its cupboards, the pantry is slowly being stocked.  While our morning walks have many smaller details to observe as we break trail in our new neighborhood, I am much relieved that we can still see Pinnacle Peak from certain routes.

It certainly helps to have cooler temperatures – which we have lazily taken advantage of by leaving later in the morning.  Not a problem, we can do this.  The days are shorter, but that doesn’t make the sunsets any less spectacular.  Mountains are visible in the distance from most directions, and the quails (noodle-heads to us locals) are still scurrying across streets and stretches of the open wash desert.  What is truly amazing is the fact that we can wander about and feel as though we have walked through the wardrobe (as in Narnia, in a manner of speaking) and be within a mile of our home.  Pretty neat.  It’s very much like being in Italy by my cousin’s place in Valdgano – which is located at the base of the Dolomites.  I have many fond memories of walks in both the neighborhood and the refuges we visited.  There is no description for the sudden shock of cold air when it greets a pilgrim.  Clouds become thick fog and then clear round the next corner.  The sun is a pale shawl of comfort, breaking through to full force in pockets.  Back then I could handle the steep incline of the path.  Today I need to work up to that type of rigor.  Years in an office environment has made me lazy and softened both my muscles and my resolve.  I am sure that with time I will respond to the endorphins and pick up the pace.  It will get easier as the temperatures are cooler and the need for heat overrides the temptation of laziness.

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Rainbows in Cave Creek

Posted on October 11, 2011 by vairarenbeth

Yes, they exist!  On Friday we were driving to our rental from our home, clouds of all shapes and sizes jamming the horizon.  Some looked very rainy, others just hanging out for the ride.  And right smack on the horizon was the most intense-colored rainbow elbowing its way to visibility.  We chased it along the road, but as is the case with most rainbows their intensity is lost as soon as you change your angle, or the air moisture shifts.  Still, we now were happy that we took the left instead of driving straight through (as we should have).  Otherwise we would have lost the view.

It’s been a challenge bouncing between our two “homes”.  Patience has never been one of my virtues (sometimes I despair of having any virtues at all).  But it is something that I have had a hard lesson to learn this past year.  There’s an old adage that basically says if you have to try too hard, it isn’t meant to be.  At least not at that moment.  So I keep compiling my “to do” lists, crossing some items off, but never the ones that mean the most to me emotionally.  Expectations are managed into reality with an uneven hand.  It’s either painful or it’s not.  The trick is to find some joy in the moment, or eventually done the road.

Monday was the big day for getting all our “stuff” out of storage – a mere 101 boxes of various sizes (I won’t mention how many had yarn in them).  So exhausting, but a lot of progress and things are beginning to feel like home.  Monday night at the condo had a little surprise – a scorpion was exploring on the wall next to the patio door.  Denny did the honors.  It was our first “live” experience with the critters, and I am sure it won’t be our last.  Nothing is too small to take notice of in the desert.  Antennas up, all times.

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Rain, Finally….

Posted on October 4, 2011 by vairarenbeth

After weeks and weeks of dry, triple digit weather it has finally dropped to the high 80’s, escorted by thunder, lightning and sweet smelling rain.  Open doors and cool breezes are such a treat.  Funny how perspective can change with such a simple event.

We’ve been running around town prepping for the move into our new home.  It’s echoey and empty right now.  I call out “we’re home” to my cats’ picture in the hallway when I enter.  Our 200+ boxes of “stuff” are waiting for transport from the storage warehouse, which will be next week.  In the meantime there are trips upon trips of crawling through furniture stores, looking for the right desk, bureau, and other things to replace the pieces we left behind in California.  Consignment shops hold puzzling pictures of other people’s lives.  Outlets, mega-shops and local shops of every vintage carry dirt cheap or insanely expensive sofas and chairs that stare back at you like a straggly and abandoned mutts or overprices pedigree dogs.

Not a lot of this furniture is speaking to me.  Or when it does I know it will not fit in our new digs.  Well, at some point a decision will be made, and it will become part of our new home.

Landscaping is another adventure.  Overgrown bushes stretch, begging for a fresh trim.  Several bags of clippings later, they spring back to life, chipper in their comportment.  Not all are desert based.  What was the former owner thinking when she planted 4 ficus trees on the side of the house, 3 of which have been dead for at least the last 3 months?  And the tree she planted right next to the driveway?  (I can see future cracks in the concrete as it takes roots and grows.  That baby is going to need to find a new home.)  Right now I am at odds with the paddle cactus.  Their hair-thin needles seem to launch from several feet away and penetrate into the skin.  It’s painful and lasts several days.  I swear these things are alive and conscious in ways we don’t know.  But in time the Joshua tree and saguaros will be planted and keep us in synch with our desert environment.  And all shall be well.

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From There to Here

Posted on September 14, 2011 by vairarenbeth

The Road to CallaisThe Burghers of Calais are permanently established at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California.  It was a cool winter day that Denny and I had some fun posing as part of the scene.  They may have been unwilling travelers for their appointed journey.  We, on the other hand, embarked on our journey with eyes wide open and excitement at the opportunity.  How reassuring, after three weeks of record breaking temperatures, we are enjoying upper 90’s, an occasional evening shower, and gorgeous skies and scenery in our newly adopted Arizona.

Everything seems different here – the way the heat embraces your whole existence, the pace, the scenery.  Yet there is a common bond in the air.  Many of us have emigrated from another life to this arid space.  We’re all here, from California and Canada, Texas, Illinois, even the Lost Boys of Sudan are among the many that now call this place home.  Each of us has our own history and reason for being here.  How long is a question that can only be answered over time.

I know that even though I miss some of my old life, I am grateful for the change.  It has come at the right point in time, though I can’t even begin to explain or know why.  Each day establishes its own pace, intersecting the paces of the other people and things I encounter.  The cottontails and quails seem to be everywhere.  My husband and I alternate our morning walk to favor the wind, or shade, or not interfere with a mom bobcat and her cub crossing the road.  More bizarre is witnessing a quail family scurrying across right behind them.  That certainly lessened my fear, knowing a next meal was being ignored in favor of a destination.  Some days we see the same people walking.  Some wave and we wave back, some keep their privacy and we respect the same.  And all the while we perform our mundane errands – which never go away no matter where we are – but still enjoy the little details that make life feel good.  I don’t mind the chores so much because I have the time to do them without feeling rushed or pushed.  I figure this is all part of establishing a natural rhythm.  Now I feel I have the power to say yes or no, and not feel pressured into doing things I don’t want to do.  Makes me wonder how much of this attitude I could have adopted into my “former” life?  Hard to say.  Another question to let simmer in the back of my mind.  I guess it’s all about choice, in the long run.

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Noodling Around in Scottsdale

Posted on September 3, 2011 by vairarenbeth

Today was finally a day where the temperature did not break 100! It felt completely bearable and will hopefully be the start of a cooling trend. August 2011 has been the hottest August on record for the Greater Phoenix area. It is hard to believe that it is September already. We see the school buses running around town during our morning walks. The town traffic is busier as people are arriving from wherever they go to escape the dog days of summer. It’s almost like a rite of passage. I feel as though we have been christened by hot weather, passing the test for moving to the real wild west.

Heat notwithstanding, we roasted a turkey tenderloin tonight. It was perfect timing as my sisters sent a retirement basket that had a bottle of riesling which happened to have quails on the label. It was not a coincidence! And yes, the quails have been busy at it, sharing the open space with the cottontail bunnies and all the other creatures that call this neighborhood home.

Hydrating is becoming a habit – we’re less likely to forget our bottled water as we head on out for the elusive house hunting task. Generically it could be a fun experience. But there are so many really borderline properties out there, that it is really hard to visualize some of the spaces as “the future home”. All those stories about people who have pulled out all the appliances and fixtures are true. And then there are the situations where the electricity and water have been shut off. This is not a good thing in the desert with the heat – boards separate, things fester, creatures find a new home. Water heaters flood out the whole floor. Flippers buy these places o the cheap, make a few cosmetic changes and put the home back on the market at exorbitant prices. And of course that makes them unaffordable for the asking, so a lot of the inventory just sits there. It’s been a lot of work, which will hopefully pay off in the long run. Only time will tell!

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Six Hours

Posted on July 20, 2010 by vairarenbeth

One of my islands of sanity is the group I knit with, once a month, on a Sunday.  There are five of us, and our meetings are very consistent.  Our conversations cover the whole map, stones skipping on a water surface, each point of contact a different topic.  Sometimes we circle back to a line that was dropped at the bottom of a skip. Of course we never solve the world’s problems, but we do come pretty close sometimes.  And we do exchange a lot of useful knowledge.

It was reported during our last session that the answer to the perennial question of the difference between “art” and “craft” has been discovered.  The answer is “six hours.”  Ok – six hours?  It turns out that this was the outcome of vigorous discussion at a lace-making class the other week.  It seems that the inquisitive would be hand-crafter for knitting, weaving, spinning yarn, etc., will always ask “how long did it take you to make it”?  Hmm.  If knitting, do I include the time for knitting a swatch for gauge?  If weaving do I include tying up the treadles?  What about the time to review patterns, or choosing the colors and type of fiber?  And then what about actual versus calendar time?  Well, let’s not get too crazy here on the details.  But the real crux of the matter boils down to the fact that the novice shows up in a class, and is horrified if a project can’t be completed in six hours.  It seems they see a beautiful sweater in a knit shop and want to have one of their own.  So, they sign up for a class and expect to be able to finish it in – yes, six hours.  Or less.  They aren’t attuned to the skill level, or the complexity of the pattern, or just the joy of mindful awareness when working on a project.  What a horrified look on a face when I tell this type of person it took me two years to knit my lace shawl.  Of course, that included all the interludes when I couldn’t bear ripping out a section I messed up yet one more time, or other lapses of time that kept me from working on it.  The reaction is usually followed with a “why do it”, or “it’s easier to just buy it”.  Of course, when you make a thing, it becomes your very own, and typically you can’t find it to buy it.  No matter.  There are people who can knit it to order for you, and isn’t that easier?  (Maybe not for the one knitting on demand, but it’s a living!)

But, silly me.  We are talking about a 24×7 immediate gratification society!  If we need something instantly, we go to the internet – on our desk tops, lap tops, cells phones and other gadgets.  There is no breath between thought.  Sometimes I wonder if there is any thought.  Again, I digress to the world’s problems (maybe this is a root cause?)

An attempt to educate the novice has led to the basic marketing strategy  of structuring a class so that there is a takeaway – something that the participant can walk away with on the spot, and show what they made.  In six hours or less.  A craft that is partially pre-assembled, cookie cutter (except for maybe a choice of color or fiber type) and ready to pop out like a TV dinner in a microwave.  Only they don’s call them TV dinners anymore, but you get my point.

So, there you go.  No matter. The difference between “art” and “craft” is six hours.

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‘S Wonderful….

Posted on July 10, 2010 by vairarenbeth

Even though work can be a pocket of hell, there are moments and days worth living for.  They are usually called “the weekend”.  And this weekend Summer is here, and life feels good.

At last I finished warping my loom with the singles I handspun.  This will be an interesting experiment, since I will be using singles for both the warp and weft.  So far, just a few snags, but nothing insurmountable.  The plan is to use the huck pattern, and I threw 6 picks of plainweave to hem the edge and use as an outline.  I may throw in a few more picks for good measure.

When I am in my post-surgery mode, I will only be able to knit, read, or watch TV for a few days, so I am starting to plan my knitting project.  I totally gave up on the Birch shawl pattern that I  started with the alpaca/linen blend.  After 5 starts that pattern is one of the worst I have ever tried to follow.  I ripped it all out.  So I will change course and knit another ruffle scarf in linen for the summer.  I also want to knit a pair of mitts and also a pair of socks.  It will be fun finding time for all of that!  But next Sunday my knitting group meets so I will have incentive to get at least one of the projects up and running for our session.

There are five of us and the beauty of it is that it is the five of us.  A lot of the informal groups end up having about 15-20 people on the e-mail list, and sometimes people show up and most times they don’t.  I don’t feel comfortable in that environment.  Although the spinning group is in that category, today’s meeting had four of us, and it was a very fun time.  Picked figs off the tree, looked at Italian pictures from a fiber-theme trip, and spun and chatted.

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Arms of Steel

Posted on July 6, 2010 by vairarenbeth

Yesterday I celebrated a day off from work by making fresh pasta from scratch, warping the loom and finishing one of the Commissario Brunetti mysteries by Donna Leon.  All this while my husband was golfing in the summer heat.

I was alternating between being lazy and being productive when I decided I was going to roll out the pasta by hand, instead of using the machine.  Now, when I write “machine”, it’s not the electric kind, but the crank and roll kind that my mother used way back in the days of yore.  So you figure on the one hand, what is so hard about setting it up?  On the other hand, it was only two eggs’ worth, so it seemed like too much trouble for a single serving, if you know what I mean.  After all, I have read about the Italian grandmothers who used to crank it out with the rolling pin every day.  And, didn’t Norma Virginio roll out her crustoli by hand?  So if they could, I can,m right?  Tolkien has Gandalf state “The wise speak only of what they know” and now I know better.  Norma must have had arms of steel (or I am REALLY out of shape) because I could not get the pasta rolled out thinner than an eighth of an inch.  And you know what that means after boiling!  To get the dough thinner, I felt like I would have had to press down the pin to China.  By the way, pasta that thick does not twirl around your fork.  I am chalking the whole experience up to lessons learned.  And from now on, I am using the crank and roll machine.

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